


Ripped

by Ray_the_Ravenous



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Kadar is a good boy, M/M, Masyaf, Minor Injuries, Pre-Solomon Temple, i mean what else is new, protective malik, reckless Altair, siege
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25204108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_the_Ravenous/pseuds/Ray_the_Ravenous
Summary: Masyaf is under attack
Relationships: Malik Al-Sayf/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	Ripped

**Author's Note:**

> Another quick thing. I'm currently writing a multichapter so I'm a bit busy ^^'  
> I know it's not much but enjoy.

Screams and smoke were filling the air, the piercing sound of steel clashing was pervading his ears and cold sweat was dripping down his neck.

“They’re falling back!” one of his Brothers screamed.

“Where the hell is Altair!?” he yelled, through burning lungs. The adrenaline of the battle rushing through his veins.

He lost sight of him a few minutes ago, when a new wave of soldiers hit, cornering them.

The five of them were barely keeping the enemies at bay. They were trapped between sharp swords and an eight feet tall wall of grey cobblestone, leaving no escape.

Malik’s sword pierced through the iron armor of a crusader in a swift motion, producing a sickening sound of dripping blood and tearing flesh. He dislodged it from the dead man’s shoulder and glanced frantically around him: people were running desperate to find shelter, houses were burning and corpses littered the ground.

They did not see the attack coming. The Templars had hit during the last few hours of the day, while the sun was setting. Now, a few hours later, the black night sky was stained with the color of hungry flames, and Masyaf was burning before their eyes.

“I saw him going down that way!” Rauf shouted while fending off a soldier’s attack, ending him with a quick strike through the neck.

“He was supposed to help us hold up the northern tower!” Malik yelled back frustrated “If he thinks that he can go play hero on his own and leave us all to die, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands”

They managed to fend off the majority of the soldiers; then Malik saw a breach through the crowd and the mangled bodies.

So he took off running through the mayhem on the streets, Rauf desperately calling back to him.

He couldn’t see much, his eyes tearing up because of the pungent smell of burning wood. He pushed though troops of soldiers and rushing villagers.

He managed to reach the main square, now unrecognizable, and spotted about ten soldiers circling around a man garbed in white robes.

Malik froze, blood running cold.

Altair stood in the middle of the butchery of the battle, surrounded by a dozen of blades, dangerous eyes scanning and analyzing every imperceptible movement of the enemy. His sword was drawn, his body strained in a fighting stance.

Then hell broke loose.

With graceful and deadly movements, his sword flew over throats and sliced through skin, spilling red over his snow-white frame. Altair was dancing a ballet of death, his quick gestures natural, like he was born to kill.

The smirking bastard had already slaughtered half of his opponents by the time Malik had breathed a gasp of disbelief. However, in his cockiness Altair did not notice that the crusader who was crossing swords with had drawn a dagger with his left hand. The soldier, still staring frightened in the eyes of the Eagle, dragged the knife’s blade over the Assassin’s face in a hurried move, barely missing his right eye. Altair noticing just a second too late, clumsily dodging the hit.

The soldier, staggered back when the other pushed him away with his sword.

Time seemed to slow down. Malik unable to move, eyes glued on the scene before him. He held his breath staring at the Assassin.

Altair traced his bleeding lip with his fingers, staring at his red stained hand. He slowly looked at the trembling man before him, and in an impossibly rapid slash, his hidden blade tore through soft tissue.

The soldier kneeled in pain, clutching at his leaking neck, gripping Altair’s bracer with the other hand.

While life was leaving the man’s body, Altair was glowering intensely in his terrified eyes, cold fury radiating from his glare. His chin was coated in scarlet, face smeared by dirt, scratches and cuts were littering his face. He looked more like a creature coming straight from Hell than a human. 

He finally released the soldier’s corpse with disgust, cleaning his blade on his robes.

Malik snapped out of his trance-like state, abruptly remembering why he ran all this way in the first place.

Altair was lightly touching his torn lip, grinning at the pain, treasuring a new war trophy.

The man’s actions only fueled his anger further, marching towards him with a glare that would have made the lesser man quiver in fear.

“Brother, good to see you” Altair smirked at him with a disturbing veil of bloodlust glazing his eyes.

Malik shoved him with blunt force making him stumble briefly, obviously not expecting it.

“You were supposed to stay and help us you _al'ahmaq!_ ” Malik seethed at him.

“I got their general, they do not have choice but to retreat” Altair looked at him in a puzzled expression, a shadow of a smile still present on his mouth.

“I don’t give a fuck Altair! You were given a direct order!” Malik retorted exasperated. The fatigue of the battle was starting to make itself known.

“You are here too. I’m not the only one who left Rauf behind fighting off waves of crusaders, am I?” the bastard said almost smugly.

Malik was about to rip his head off, when realized he had to be the bigger person in this. _“Do it for your sanity Malik”_ he thought. He breathed deeply, calming himself as much as possible.

“You know what, forget it, we have to get back to the others.” Altair stared at him confused. Malik was about to walk away, but then turned around and grabbed the other Assassin’s hood, drawing his face closer. Staring right through golden eyes he spoke in a low an intimidating tone “this isn’t over”.

He let go of Altair, who was looking at him owlishly. A bit of pride swelled in Malik’s chest: he still was the only person who could bully Altair into silence.

\-----------------------------------------------

They were making their way back to the northern perimeter wall, Malik leading the way and Altair following behind in silence.

The fight had died down; only the white noise of burning fires being put out, low whimpers and sobs of the wounded could be heard.

Even if Altair impulsive actions had indeed resulted useful, that did not mean that his behavior was acceptable: he left his position unnecessarily endangering, not only himself, but their whole group as well. He had at least the common sense to keep his mouth shut while they were walking towards the fortress.

They finally reached their group and for the second time that day, Malik felt his soul leaving his body.

Rauf and four other Assassins were surrounded by soldiers, and were obviously struggling to keep them away. One of the Assassins was injured and could barely fight; Rauf himself was growing tired of the battle, blocking the blows clumsily. When Malik caught a glimpse of grey among the swirling of white.

A shorter boy, dressed in grey robes slightly shorter than his own white ones, was gripping a short sword as if his own life depended on it, barely resisting the Templar’s hard blows. When he turned around a pair of frightened bright blue eyes shone from under the boy’s hood.

It was Kadar.

Now, what was Kadar doing in the heat of the battle when Malik had _expressively_ ordered him to stay safely inside of the fortress with the other novices, was not really important.

A violently protective instinct overcame Malik, who was already drawing his sword and launching himself into battle.

He heard the faint and strained call of his name behind his back, and a second later, he was pulling Kadar by the side to shield him from a strike of the soldier’s sword.

“Malik! God I’m so happy you’re here!” Kadar panted out, beaming at him.

“Is one idiot not enough? What are you doing here? I told you to stay inside!” Malik’s patience was growing thinner by the second. He stopped another of the crusader’s attack.

“I saw you sprinting down the road, so I thought that I could lend Rauf a hand” he replied innocently.

Malik cursed his own stupidity and shoved Kadar behind him. Then he focused on his opponent, striking mercilessly and with precision, attacking with a defensive fury that left him blind to everything but the target in front of him.

A white figure appeared beside him, fighting with equal force and determination.

Malik and Altair were perfectly synchronized in their movements, landing hits like a deadly machine. Shielding and protecting the other without even thinking. The fight went on for what seemed like an eternity, e newfound energy humming through his body as his only goal was to “ _keep him safe”._

The air was silent and stagnant around them, everything still for a long straining moment. They were standing motionless in the middle of the massacre, chests heaving and swords pointing downwards. The two of them were staring right in each other’s eyes, Altair grinning like a maniac, his face still covered in blood, and Malik’s lips tugging slightly in a faint smile.

Then he became aware of his surroundings once again: Kadar, Rauf and the others were staring at them in a mixture of horror and amazement.

He wordlessly walked towards Kadar and engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug, his brother returning it with the same strength. Malik closed his eyes and released a long breath, glad that the boy wasn’t hurt.

While Rauf and the rest of the Assassins were assessing the damage and the wounded, Malik and Kadar stood wrapped around each other for a full minute before Malik pulled away and looked right through the younger boy’s eyes, looking for any traces of pain. The kind of pain that only he could read in his brother’s eyes.

Kadar broke under the intensity of Malik’s concerned stare.

“I was scared you weren’t going to come back; I wanted to follow you,” Kadar whispered ashamed, trying to escape his older brother’s gaze.

“It’s ok Kadar, I’m here now” He pulled him closer to him again, the shorter boy tucking his head under Malik’s chin.

The world was far away from them while they were standing in their little bubble of safety, and Malik missed the ghostly white figure standing behind them. 

Amber eyes filled with raging jealousy were glaring their way.

\----------------------------------------------

Malik was peeling off his dirty robes, while the sun was rising over the damaged ensemble of houses that was Masyaf.

His muscles ached and screamed at each of his movements: they had spent the rest of the night helping the villagers, putting out fires and counting dead bodies. At some point Tariq, the head of the city guards, shooed them away, saying that they could take it from there.

He was exhausted.

He stripped down to his breeches and started cleaning himself with a washcloth, hissing at the feeling of cold water over open cuts and grazes. He was focusing intently on the task, disinfecting a particularly deep gash that ran horizontal on his left arm.

“You are too soft on him; this world is a cruel place Malik” words cut through the silence.

Malik jumped out of his skin in surprise, and with catlike reflexes, he drew a dagger from his holsters and threw it towards the source of the voice.

Arm still extended in front of him, he saw Altair leaning on his doorframe, the blade stuck in the wood still vibrating from the impact. The Assassin was looking at him with an unreadable expression on his features. He was covered in gore and grime, lips still stained red.

“What are you talking about, and what the hell are you even doing here?” Malik exhaled a drowsy sigh.

Altair did not answer him, instead he kept staring attentively, reminding Malik of the way he looked at his enemies. A shudder ran down his spine as he returned that piercing stare.

“Well? Do you have something to say?” Malik was growing impatient. He just wanted to collapse in his bed for a few hours before he had to face the outside world once again.

Altair didn’t reply. He lifted himself and walked in Malik’s direction with inaudible steps, and gently grabbed his injured arm. Malik flinched instinctively at the foreign touch, but relaxed within seconds when he looked stunned at Altair who was glaring at the wound, with an angry expression.

“I should have been faster,” Altair muttered to himself in a serious tone tracing the ragged edges of the gash with careful fingers.

Malik’s hand moved on its own, grabbing Altair’s face tilting it upwards, inspecting the cut on his lips. His grip was painfully tight on Altair’s jaw, rage lying beneath his gestures.

“No, you should have been more _careful_ ” he huffed irritated.

He let go of the Assassin’s face and stepped back. Altair was calmly looking at him, and Malik could not stand his gaze.

“You said it wasn’t over, that’s why I’m here. To finish this” he said gesturing with open arms.

Malik was at a loss for words, something that rarely happened.

After a short inner debate on whether he should punch the man in the face or just fling himself out of the closest window, he decided to try with diplomacy.

“Ok let’s start with, why did you took off like an idiot and ran down the streets leaving us behind, if you could be so kind to explain?” he sneered with venom.

“I saw their officer commander and I thought we could get the upper hand if I acted quickly enough,” Altair explained with a neutral voice, as if the things he had just said made perfect sense.

Which they _technically_ did, but Malik was pissed at him and no amount of logic was going to stop him from yelling at his recklessness.

“Listen, I don’t give a flying shit about what you though Altair, you could have get yourself killed; and I don’t think you fully understand the gravity of the consequences if that were to happen.” Malik answered gravely, only silence followed.

“But I didn-“Altair started to say and Malik couldn’t take any more of the man’s bullshit: he shoved Altair against the naked wall of the room with pent-up violence and pinned him by his shoulder, ripping the white hood from the Assassin’s head in a forceful motion, stripping him of his anonymity.

“You have to get into that little brain of yours that there are people who depend on you, people who _care_ about you, you stubborn asshole. If you can’t keep yourself out of trouble because you don’t value your own life, at least do it for them, do it for _me_ ”

Malik was grasping at Altair’s thin shoulder in desperation, his anger subsiding into concern. Altair was looking at him with wide curious eyes. They were so close they were breathing the same air. Eyes flickered to lips, Altair hesitating for a fleeting instant, before he leant in.

Chapped lips shyly brushed over his own, as if to test Malik’s tolerance.

After a moment of shock, Malik kissed back first slowly, then with newfound energy, hungrily and desperate. He felt the metallic taste of blood, running his tongue over torn skin, Altair hissing in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He pulled back to star at Altair’s flushed face. His beautiful golden irises appeared darker in the dimmed light of Malik’s room, sparkling of a predatory gleam.

The feeling of those lips on his own was a mind-shattering experience for Malik, who felt like a missing piece of himself was finally found again.

He could have lost this today.

He could have lost him.

Malik cupped Altair’s face with protective impulse, and tilted it to get access to the man’s neck, covering it in kisses and soft bites. Altair released a low moan which made sparks shot through his body.

Tension was escaping their tired bodies as they embraced one another in a heated dance, caring and possessive.

\--------------------------------------------

Malik did not hear the knock on his door.

“Hey, Malik Rauf was- OH DEAR LORD MY EYES!”

Kadar screeched covering his eyes with both hands, standing in the doorway.

“For Fuck’s sake Kadar, get the hell out of here!” Malik shouted still half asleep, throwing a pillow in the door’s general direction. He felt the movement of cool air and the loud blow of a door being shut. He sighed tiredly.

Well _, fuck_.

It took him a moment to register what the hell had just happened, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings.

A very naked Altair was nestled close to him, covered only waist down with a colorful blanket. He had been abruptly woken up by Kadar’s loud entrance, eyes slowly opening in confusion.

“I think my brother may have seen us. I’m still not entirely sure if all Masyaf knows though.”

Altair huffed with nonchalance and nuzzled himself deeper in the nest of soft blankets.

“I don’t see the problem” of course he didn’t. He did not have to deal with said _problem_ personally, that painful task was left for Malik to enjoy.

Malik was trying to make his brain work properly, when Kadar called again.

“I’m going to tell Rauf you’re busy!” He shouted from the other side of the wooden door.

“Tell him he won’t be seeing Malik for the whole day!” Altair yelled back, a smirk plastered on his face.

He turned to look at the other Assassin in surprise, who was now sitting up.

“Really?” Malik grinned back at him like a loon.

Altair slowly pushed him back on the mattress, straddling his waist with his other hand. He leant down to pepper his chest with soft kisses, meticulously avoiding all the fresh cuts that littered his tanned skin.

“You aren’t allowed out of this bed until I said so, _King_ ” the little bastard smiled with malice glazing his clever eyes.

Malik’s brain shut down completely at thatbutter; the mighty Eagle of Masyaf making him soar the bluest skies of his mind.


End file.
